Quoth Our Raven
by Lorendiac
Summary: Cyborg eavesdrops as Beast Boy finally begs Raven for a date. This narrative poem, loosely based on Poe's "The Raven," is now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm trying to write this in the same general meter used by Poe in his immortal "The Raven."

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* * *

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**Quoth Our Raven**  
by Cyborg  
(with all due apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

Once around the midnight hour, as I labored in the Tower,  
To repair the broken shower in a leaky bathroom stall;  
While I worked with wrench and hammer, suddenly there came a clamor—  
I knew it for _Beast Boy's_ yammer, as he paced out in the hall.  
"'Tis just the grass stain," I muttered, "talking nonsense in the hall—  
Only this, and that is all!"

Ah, distinct my recollection, as I sealed a new connection  
I heard him voice his affection for she who had his heart in thrall.  
(She was our most creepy member, cold in June as in December;  
Once made Doctor Light a trembler; I swear I heard him squall.  
She enshrouded him in darkness till like a baby he did squall!  
We all saw him cringe and bawl.)

"Sure," thought I, "he's just _rehearsing,_ ere he tries with her conversing,  
And then will he require nursing when her reply makes his face fall?  
When she breaks his poor heart in half; perhaps she'll sneer, perhaps she'll laugh  
At his most monumental gaffe, when at last he confesses all?  
Confesses that he loves her true, not just now but for the long haul?  
Will he sulk or will he bawl?"

"Raven, please," I now heard him sigh, "Let us give it an honest try;  
Surely this thing of 'I don't _need_ a social life' must someday pall?  
May I escort you to the dance, there to waltz and there to prance;  
Is there at least a little _chance_ that you'll be my date, you doll?  
To spin around the floor and perhaps _enjoy_ the Costume Ball?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

_Her_ voice left me dumb with wonder—at last he had _dared_ confront her?—  
"Found the nerve to try, by thunder!" I mused within that shower stall.  
"To tell her plainly to her face that he yearns to her embrace,  
'Cause in his heart she takes first place as the fairest of them all!  
And now he's begging for a date—I wonder if perhaps he'll _crawl_  
To coax her to dare the Ball?"

This I had to see quite clearly—from their voices, they were nearly  
Right outside the bathroom where I lurked within the shower stall.  
Eager now, I sought one gadget to make a hole (yes, I'd patch it!)—  
Though I knew I'd _really catch it_ if they heard me use the awl,  
Carefully I pressed it forward and quiet as a fly's footfall  
Poked a hole through the drywall!

* * *

(To be continued—this is approximately one-third of the complete poem, although the rest is still a rough draft at the moment. Let me know if this first installment actually amuses you, please!) 


	2. Chapter 2

Wishing to watch if they feuded, delicately I extruded  
A fiber-optic spycam through the tiny peephole in the wall;  
There she stood with stance innately bound to be quite still and stately,  
While the boy who yearned so greatly for her to be his faithful doll  
Was all fidgety as he tried to woo her there within the hall;  
(From then on, I saw it all!)

The grass stain's cheeks were slightly red, but he gulped and then he pled,  
"Was it too hasty to invite you to _next week's_ costume ball?  
Perhaps I ask too much too soon, but this is only early June—  
Could you sing a different tune, if I tried again for fall?  
When leaves now green are falling red, could you please dance with me in fall?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

Something odd my brain now heeded—why had Raven not proceeded  
Down the hall while yet he pleaded to escort her to a Ball?  
He wanted it very badly, but _she _(if annoyed) would gladly  
Leave a fool behind to madly beat his head 'gainst a brick wall  
By still begging for the date which she'd refused and scorned withal.  
But had she left? Not at all.

Beast Boy made another trial: "Maybe dancing's not your style,  
But tell me what you'd like and I'll shut up about the silly ball.  
There must be _something_ that a pal could do with you in some locale;  
As long as it won't make you scowl, I will try it once—big or small!  
Is there aught we could do jointly to give you glee, however small?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

Over two things now I puzzled: That such punishment he guzzled  
By rephrasing his entreaties each time her words made his hopes fall;  
_And_ that Raven, so resistant to his begging so persistent,  
Kept repeating so consistently one phrase as her rebuttal;  
Kept repeating like a mantra the same three words out in the hall;  
Kept responding: _Not at all._

"Now that's a shocking thing to hear from one who's been an ally dear,  
Not just for me, but for all the team whenever there's a brawl;  
And now it seems you'd find no cheer, month after month, year after year,  
In anything we'd engineer to create fun for one and all?  
I suppose you even _hated_ that time we played some stankball?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes, there is a reason our Raven is sounding like a broken record even though she normally has a much broader vocabulary than Poe's feathered Raven did, and yes, we'll get into that in the next installment, which will hopefully wrap up the entire poem. Incidentally, I was far from certain of just how appealing my pseudo-Poe approach would be to modern Teen Titans fans, but when I saw that the first installment of this had garnered 10 reviews within the first 24 hours after it was unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, I knew I had somehow struck gold. (More reviews came along later, and they were appreciated too, but 10 in 24 hours was already something strange and new in my FanFiction experience!) 

Of course, just because the first installment struck gold is no _guarantee_ that this one and the next will automatically continue to do so. If you see any particularly rough spots in what's already posted, feel free to mention them. I'm not even totally satisfied with it myself, but if I waited until I were, I'd probably _never_ post anything at all. I strongly suspect I'll do some rewriting at the same time I post the final stanzas. . . .

**P.S.** For those of you who are wondering when I'll get back to my regular prose serial about the Titans (**The Faith of the Five**), I hope to have the next chapter up within a few days, preferably before I complete and post the final stanzas of this poem. (But that's not a gilt-edged guarantee.)


	3. Chapter 3

Beast Boy's brow began to furrow; he gave this a study thorough;  
It seemed he had found food for thought in her comment about stankball.  
"Tell me, Raven," he said coolly, "if it does not strain unduly;  
Say it quick and say it truly: Do you _want_ me to leave withal?  
To drop this topic here and now, and quick and quiet leave withal?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

I began to see his theory: If he phrased a tricky query,  
He might receive that same dreary automatic _Not at all_—  
In a context where that chilly negative reply meant really  
By logic airtight—but silly—something "positive" after all.  
Such as "encouragement" to stay and sweet-talk her in that dark hall?  
You had to respect his gall!

"Ah!" he said, his grin now thriving; in his eye, a gleam conniving;  
"Then sure, I won't be depriving you of my company after all.  
And as long as we are sharing this quiet time, I'll be daring;  
I'll ask if it would be scaring you if I kissed you in this hall?  
Yes! Do you want to leave _without_ kissing, here and now, in this hall?"  
Quoth our Raven: "Not at all."

You can guess how he responded—in a flash their lips seemed bonded  
As he wrapped his arms around her—that gutsy little goofball!  
And his pointy ears were twitching as he kissed this girl bewitching;  
Rob and Star would both be itching to know what happened in that hall!  
So while watching, I was storing the live feed coming through the wall;  
On DVD, burned it all!

Any moment I expected him to scream as if dissected,  
After Raven had collected her wits and punished his sheer gall;  
So I waited for some slugging, but instead I saw her snuggling  
Closer to him; yes, the hugging became an action mutual.  
At last they broke for air before hypoxia made them fall.  
Did she look mad? Not at all.

"That was clever, Beast Boy, dearest," she said in her tone sincerest;  
"'Twas a curse of spite severest, to discourage true love's call.  
Any time the talk got mushy, from a boy who'd got all crushy,  
And inside I felt all blushy—I'd scorn suggestions, one and all.  
Overtures and hopeful questions must gain rejections, one and all!  
(I think it began last fall.)

"Milder than the curse on Snow White—but similar in hindsight—  
'True Love's First Kiss' would set it right, _if_ that event could me befall;  
But real wooers don't _force_ kisses on their most beloved Misses;  
Hence the victim sneers and hisses, or calls his tender words 'banal';  
'The same old words, the same old lines, the same old sentiments banal.'  
Did you guess this, you green doll?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, the first and second installments were six stanzas each, but I ended up giving you seven in this one. I figured you'd forgive me for such an inconsistency, under the circumstances. The alternative was to interrupt Raven's two-stanza explanation of the curse right smack dab in the middle, and that didn't feel like good pacing. The fourth (and last) installment will contain at least four more stanzas, three of which are already written, because the story isn't quite over yet. However, I plan to alternate by doing another chapter of my Titans serial, "The Faith of the Five," before coming back to wrap up this narrative poem.

Incidentally, I toyed with the idea of writing at least one more stanza of explanation about the background of the curse the other Titans didn't know she had, so as to fill in a few extra details—such as who cast it on Raven "last fall," and under what circumstances—but I finally scuttled the idea on the grounds that this poem was getting long enough already. Also, I wasn't quite sure of the answers myself, and maybe Raven isn't sure either! Granted: It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Malchior is the most obvious candidate to pull such a cold-blooded supernatural dirty trick on Raven if he ever got the chance, but there are plenty of other villains who could also do nasty things to a girl's mind, whether by magic or by hypnotism or by some other means, if they saw a golden opportunity and wanted to take the trouble. Mumbo, Mother May-Eye, Brother Blood, and Mad Mod all spring to mind! For that matter, who knows what nasty things Trigon might have left hidden in Raven's head, somehow, when he was defeated? The Titans certainly meet some sweet people in their line of work!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Five stanzas to wrap things up, but afterwards I indulge myself with some explanations of what's been going on inside my head as I worked on this. (Oh, stop groaning! You don't have to read that part if you don't want to!)

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In my brain I somehow doubted whether Beast Boy, when he spouted  
Trick questions to get permission had guessed there was a curse at all.  
I'd guess he thought her endless gruff repeating of the same rebuff  
Was now a habit strong enough to let him try her bluff to call,  
By asking if she objected to friendly kissing in the hall—  
And prayed she'd say: _Not at all?_

Now he said, "You should know, Raven, that a friend has been so craven  
As to _spy_ upon our confab as we stood here in this hall.  
Earlier I heard him working—then all was quiet; he was shirking  
His repairs and just plain lurking right behind that bathroom wall.  
Do you see that little glitter, in that new hole, low in the wall?  
Cyborg's spycam saw it all!"

My metal nails I was chewing, for I _feared_ what might be brewing  
In Raven's head if my viewing of their smooching, from this shower stall,  
Struck her as a sin malicious that required something vicious  
To ensure it would not recur after she had made me crawl.  
("Should I charge out through the doorway and go racing down the hall?  
Or just smash right through a wall?")

But my presence now dismissing, she said, "That'll wait; I've been missing  
Months and months of proper_ kissing_, which the pesky curse did forestall.  
So for lost time let's start making up until the dawn is breaking—  
Did I mention you'll be taking me to that silly Costume Ball?  
But later I will find Cyborg and then I'll_ really_ make him squall!"  
(Did he argue? Not at all.)

And those lovebirds still are kissing, still are kissing, _still_ are kissing,  
In that quiet corridor near the bathroom with the leaky stall;  
Still are snuggling—so I gather from the fact that I don't have her  
Chasing me cross-country; rather, she must still be in that hall.  
If I get a thousand-mile lead, I _may_ survive till grudges pall.  
So now I flee—wouldn't y'all?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Late last year I happened to be reading something modelled on the meter of "The Raven"—not on this site, and it had nothing to do with the Teen Titans—and suddenly I started thinking, "Hey, I wonder if I could do that sort of thing and make it work!" Then I had to choose a subject, and somehow it came to me that it would be kind of cute to have one of the characters in my version be "Raven" of the Teen Titans, thus allowing me to use her name as part of the refrain at the end of several of the stanzas, in a conscious tribute to Poe's version. The rest of it followed from there—although it took awhile for me to decide what three-syllable discouraging reply she would be spouting at regular intervals, since I didn't want to imitate Poe _too_ closely—yet I needed something similar in meaning which would leave me with _plenty_ of possible rhymes to work into each stanza! Frankly, I rarely try to write poetry—but every once in awhile I like to test myself that way. All I can say is: Thank goodness for rhyming dictionaries and thesauruses!

I've been very reluctant to answer any reviews that came in on earlier installments of this poem, because I was afraid of tipping my hand (or making any foolish promises I might break later, for that matter)—by answering questions about where this was or wasn't going, for instance. And sending a PM just to say "I'm not going to tell you anything right now" seemed silly. Also, when I posted the first installment, I didn't think it would take nearly this long for me to wrap up the poem. However, I really did appreciate the way favorable reviews piled up on my audacious attempt to imitate the rhythm of Poe's immortal poem, and I now intend, over the next few days, to respond privately to at least some of those reviews—even if some of the people who commented on this in its early stages have probably forgotten what they said by now, and may be very surprised to hear from me after so long!

A few comments about the plot: Implied is the idea that Raven couldn't even tell her friends there _was_ a curse on her, as well as being unable to say anything "positive" in response to anything resembling romantic overtures from a boy she secretly liked. (Actually, the curse _may_ have extended to forcing a negative response from her regarding anything resembling romantic overtures from anyone at all, no matter how she _felt_ about them—but since it seems no one except Beast Boy ever actually _tried_ to beg her for a date during the months the curse was upon her, we'll never know for sure.)

Also implied, but only in these last few stanzas, is the following reconstruction of what was going on, from Beast Boy's point of view. He remembered hearing Cyborg using tools on the shower's plumbing earlier, and knew Cyborg must still be in there since he hadn't come out into the hall while Beast Boy was pacing back and forth, working up his courage—but when Raven suddenly came along and Beast Boy saw a chance to beg her for a date _before_ he could lose his nerve again, he chose to take the risk of having his buddy overhear him getting shot down in flames by Raven (which must have seemed the most probable outcome). Of course Beast Boy _didn't_ know they would end up smooching right outside the bathroom when he made the original decision. He also _didn't immediately_ notice the tiny fiber-optic spycam appearing within a tiny hole in the wall during the odd conversation; he had other things on his mind by then.

After the first round of kissing, and after he caught his breath, his eyes spotted the lens peeking out of the tiny hole. Then it occurred to him that if he was going to pursue this relationship with a consistent policy of full disclosure as they went along, then Raven had a _right_ to know they had a concealed audience. Beast Boy didn't mind too much having Cyborg see them kissing—he was probably a bit smug about it, if anything—but he figured that if _Raven_ minded a great deal, and if she wanted to _punish_ Cyborg for being a peeping tom, then Beast Boy would just wash his hands of the whole thing as her retribution fell upon the head of the sinner. It is very probable that he figured he still owed Cyborg some payback for some other prank we don't know about, anyway. And he knew Raven wouldn't really kill a teammate; she'd just _terrify_ him for awhile to make sure he learned a valuable lesson about manners! Right? (Speaking of which: I went back and forth on whether Cyborg should use the word "survive" in the final stanza, because realistically he ought to know he won't die if Raven catches him . . . but I felt it suggests the state of panic he's in, more vividly than any other words I could think of for that line. I may have missed some "obvious" alternative.)

Incidentally, I've never been a _diehard believer_ in the idea of a Beast Boy/Raven romantic relationship. I don't think there's any serious evidence in the series to support that idea. (But I don't scream in horror at the very suggestion that it _might _happen someday, either.) So I was actually a bit surprised when I found myself starting to draft out some stanzas for a poem about Beast Boy finally working up the courage to ask her on a regular date, but hey, I had to have _someone_ asking her _something_ that could be repeatedly countered with a depressing reply, until the someone finally figured out how to rephrase his questions in order to get a much more "positive" meaning from that same supposedly discouraging reply, didn't I?

(Whenever I reread "The Raven," I keep wanting the narrator to show that much imagination by posing new questions to which a response of "Nevermore" will be downright _encouraging!_ Although I am _aware_ that Poe later wrote in an essay that the narrator was basically indulging a masochistic streak by the end of the poem, as he kept bellowing questions which, based on past performance, he _knew darn well_ the Raven was inevitably going to answer in the same way as before. I prefer my protagonists to at least _try_ to achieve happy endings, instead of deliberately punishing themselves with sad ones they _easily_ could have avoided.)


End file.
